LIII. What is your substance, whereof are you made, And you, but one, can every shadow lend. Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit Is poorly imitated after you; On Helen's cheek all art of beauty fet, in Grecian tires are painted new : And you in every blessed shape we know. In all external grace you have fome part, But you like none, none you, for constant heart. LIV. O, how much more doth beauty beauteous feem Hang on fuch thorns, and play as wantonly When fummer's breath their masked buds discloses: But, for their virtue only is their show, They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade; Die to themselves. Sweet rofes do not fo; Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made: And fo of you, beauteous and lovely youth, When that shall vade, by verse distils your truth. LV. Not marble, nor the gilded monuments And broils root out the work of masonry, Nor Mars his fword nor war's quick fire fhall burn The living record of your memory. 'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room Even in the eyes of all posterity That wear this world out to the ending doom. You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes. LVI. Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not faid The spirit of love with a perpetual dullness. Which parts the shore, where two contracted new Or call it winter, which, being full of care, more rare. LVII. Being your flave, what should I do but tend I have no precious time at all to spend, Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour Whilft I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you, Nor think the bitterness of abfence four When you have bid your fervant once adieu; Nor dare I queftion with my jealous thought Where you may be, or your affairs suppose, But, like a fad flave, stay and think of nought Save, where you are how happy you make those. So true a fool is love that in your will, Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill. |